


The Mikael Incident

by jarebear20



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Modern Character in Skyrim, Modern Girl in Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarebear20/pseuds/jarebear20
Summary: Mikael has made it clear he's interested in bedding Carlotta, but when he takes it too far after being rejected, Nathalie has to step in to tell him to back off.





	The Mikael Incident

**Author's Note:**

> The ever lovely paraparadigm was so kind as to give me a prompt to help me find Nathalie's voice, for which she has my gratitude. I did not expect this to get long enough to warrant consideration for being posted, but since it is, I hope that some might find some enjoyment in this fic.
> 
> This work is unbeta-ed, so I ask for forgiveness in regards to any noticeable errors.

Whiterun at night was completely different than it was during the day. It was more quiet, for one, with only the occasional door opening to let out the sounds of raucous laughter and revelry from the Bannered Mare. But all she could hear as she descended the steps of Jorrvaskr was the soft clink of the guards’ chainmail, the soft brush of fabric rubbing against itself. She was glad for the silence, because it allowed her a few precious moments to gather her thoughts. 

Eorland still refused to take her on as an apprentice, even with the recommendation from Balimund showing her dedication to the craft. Letting out a sound of frustration, Nathalie shoved a hand through her hair and sat on one of the benches beneath the Gildergreen.

Not for the first time since she arrived in Whiterun, she considered what she should do next. Eorland was far from the only blacksmith in Skyrim. Ghorza gra-Bagol was also held in high regard even among the Nords. Perhaps she would be more willing to take on an apprentice?

A sharp cry broke the silence of the night. Before she even realized she was doing it, Nathalie was on her feet and moving towards where she thought she’d heard the sound coming from.

It was Carlotta. Carlotta Valentia, with the soft voice and the kind eyes and the mother of a young girl that could rid the sky of clouds with only her smile. Carlotta, who was looking over the shattered remains of her market stall, the boxes where she kept her wares knocked over and the fruits and vegetables she was to sell on the morrow smashed beyond salvaging. 

“What happened?” Nathalie asked, and Carlotta jumped.

“I...It’s nothing, my lady.” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Carlotta bent down to pick up a head of lettuce that had rolled in the direction of the well in the center of the market. “My stall...finally broke is all. I’ve been telling Anoriath for weeks that the roof was in need of repair, but it’s too late.” She sniffled.

Nathalie stepped down from her position on the outskirts of the Wind District and, ignoring Carlotta’s protest, lifted what had once been the roof of the Imperial’s market stall and set it down on the stone wall behind her. “I don’t think that’s true,” she said after a moment.

“What do you mean?” 

Nathalie nudged a ruined tomato with the toe of her boot. “A collapsed roof wouldn’t be responsible for all of this.” Sure, it might have taken out a few boxes, but not _ all _ of them. “And someone would have heard it breaking, wouldn’t they?”

Carlotta stared at her, long enough to have her wondering if she was wrong and it really was a collapsed stall responsible for all of this. 

Then the other woman sighed. “I guess there’s no use denying it, then. You’re right. It wasn’t a collapsed roof. Someone did do this. ”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“That bard, Mikael.” Giving up on salvaging anything in this mess, Carlotta leaned against the side of the well. “He’s been harrassing me for months, trying to bed me even though I’ve told him that I'm not interested in anything but caring for my little girl.” She looked up at Nathalie. “I’ve heard him in the tavern, you know. Bragging about how he’ll best me like any true Nord bests a savage beast.”

“That’s disgusting.” Nathalie joined her at the well. “And the guards have done nothing to stop him so far?”

Carlotta gave a short laugh. “Stop what? He’s all talk as far as they’re concerned.”

“Carlotta, anyone who is willing to trash your business because you won’t sleep with them is not the sort to stop there. What if he goes after you? Or Mila?”

At the mention of her daughter’s name, Carlotta’s hand lashed out, gripping Nathalie’s arm. “He will not lay a finger on her,” she hissed. “I will not allow it.”

“He doesn’t have to. Or are you telling me you really think that Mikael came out here himself and smashed your fruits and vegetables to bits?”

In the moonlight, she watched Carlotta’s face blanch. “I’ll go to the Jarl on the morrow. He’ll put a stop to it.”

But Nathalie had seen this all play out before in another place, another time. And perhaps that was why she said what she said next. “Let me speak with him.”

“The Jarl?” Carlotta shook her head. “I could not ask---”

“No. Let me speak with Mikael.” She put her free hand over Carlotta’s. “I’ll convince him to stop the harassment. And if he doesn’t, I’ll go with you to the Jarl.” 

“I...I mean, I cannot stop you, if that is what you wish to do. But I’m not sure anything could get through that thick skull of his. Gods know I’ve tried.”

Nathalie smiled. “Let me give it a try. I can be very persuasive when the cards are down. Why don’t you go home and read to Mila? I’m sure she’d love that.”

Carlotta considered her for a moment. “She would. Thank you for this kindness, my lady. Please let me know what Mikael has to say for himself, if you’re able.”

“Of course.”

* * *

She found Mikael plying his trade in the Bannered Mare by the large fire around which off-duty guards and the more sociable of the Whiterun residents sat eating their suppers. Having paid upfront for a month’s stay at the inn, she was a familiar--if not welcomed--sight to Hulda, the tavern keeper. Nodding in return as she stepped up to the bar, she took the proffered bottle of Honningbrew Mead with a small word of thanks before returning her attention to the bard.

Nathalie waited until he stopped for a break, which took less time than she expected. Hmm, for all his bragging in regards to the number of women he bedded, Mikael evidently left out the little part about his lack of stamina. She flashed him a smile as he set down his lute, and Mikael took it as an invitation to join her at the bar. Perfect.

“And how are you on this fine evening, my lady?” he asked, taking a step too close into her personal space for her to be comfortable with. “Might I ask if you have a request for me? I assure you, there is nothing that I cannot do.”

“I do have a request, actually.” Still smiling, Nathalie reached up to grab Mikael by the scruff of the neck. She slammed his face into the bar with enough force to have the goblets Hulda had been cleaning rattle. “Stay away from Carlotta. She’s not interested in you.”

The entire tavern fell silent, save for Mikael’s sputtering. Shoving back against her, he straightened and glared at her from behind a bloody nose. “Did she put you up to this? That bitch is going to pay for this!”

“No she won’t. But you will.” Catching him by the throat, Nathalie twisted and slammed him into the wall. “Did you really think your harassment would go unanswered, Mikael? Leave her alone, or else.”

Mikael’s feet kicked useless at the floor for some traction, but she held him too high for him to get any. His eyes darted over to the men still in uniform. “Guards! Do something!”

“By all means, arrest me,” Nathalie said easily. “But before you do, I want you to go out and see what Mikael has done to Carlotta’s stall. Do you all fancy having to go directly to the farms and negotiate for your food every day? Because now you’ll have to.”

“Mikael!” From behind her, Nathalie could hear Hulda’s scolding tone. “What have you done?”

“Alright! Alright!” Mikael held up his hands. “You win! On my honor, I will not bother Carlotta ever again!”

“Good.” But Nathalie did not release him as perhaps he had hoped, because his eyes widened. “If I even get a whiff of you causing her trouble ever--” She tightened her grip on his throat for emphasis, “--again, I will be coming back for another chat. And believe me, your nose will not be the only thing that gets broken.”

Finally, she released him, letting his body fall into a crumpled heap on the floor. Sparing him one last glance, she turned to look at the rest of the tavern. “Sorry, everyone. Looks like the show’s over for the night.” 

They only stared at her. Feeling incredibly awkward after a moment, Nathalie made a quick escape, not breathing until the crisp night air hit her face. Exhaling slowly, she felt the tension in her body ease.

Carlotta’s stall stood out amongst the others, everything still ruined beyond salvaging. Carlotta must have taken her advice and gone home. Bending down to pick up a green apple that had rolled away, she considered the scene before her. 

It didn’t seem right to just leave things out like this. How long would it take for Carlotta to scrape together the gold to repair her stall? And while she was no carpenter, Nathalie thought she could handle this much. All she’d need was some wood and nails and…

Yeah, she could handle this. Carlotta’s livelihood didn’t need to be threatened just because one prick couldn’t take rejection. 

Making up her mind, Nathalie tossed the apple into a pile of others just like it and got to work.

* * *

When she awoke in her bed at the Bannered Mare a few days later, Nathalie was greeted by a basket overflowing with fruit sitting on her table. There was a note sitting next to it, with only a couple of words written upon it.

_ Thank you. _


End file.
